


To Learn to Fly Again

by still_lycoris



Category: X-Men: Apocalypse (2016) - Fandom
Genre: Anger, Canon-Typical Violence, Community: hc_bingo, Friendship, Gen, Injury Recovery, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Trauma, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 11:34:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7638517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/still_lycoris/pseuds/still_lycoris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel survived Cairo and the plane crash. But surviving and living are two different things and now that he's lost everything, Angel has to decide what he wants and who he wants to be ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Learn to Fly Again

**Author's Note:**

> For the hc_bingo prompt "near-death experience"

Logically, Angel knew that it hadn’t been En Sabah Nur who had saved him from the cages.

That had been … whatever the fuck that had been. Hell, he didn’t even know if it had been a person or some crazy accident with the generators that had worked in his favour. But it _felt_ like it had been En Sabah Nur. _Felt_ like all this had been meant to happen so that they could meet. So that En Sabah Nur could fix his wings, heal him, make him better, stronger. Give him a glorious purpose, a _reason_ to fight and be strong, not just for himself but for someone else, someone who cared about him and wanted him to be the best he could be.

He was so strong.

So he couldn’t be about to die.

He _couldn’t_. He couldn’t be about to hit the ground in a crashing plane, he couldn’t, they couldn’t have gotten away from him, he had to do something, he had to think, his master needed him to get out of this to protect him …

He tried to throw himself backwards. Tried to get away, flapping his glorious, strong metal wings that couldn’t betray him, they just couldn’t …

And then impact.

And then nothing.

And then through the nothing, a sensation of pure, icy disgust.

Betrayal.

_No! No, I’ll come back! I’ll get strong again! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll wake up in a minute and do better, please, please don’t leave me, don’t leave me here, I’m trying, I’m trying!_

He wasn’t sure if he was saying it or just thinking it. He wasn’t sure of anything. It was dark, so dark and he couldn’t feel En Sabah Nur any more, he couldn’t feel anything, he was fading away and he didn’t want to, he didn’t _want_ to, he could feel things waiting there, nasty things that were already beginning to whisper …

Then there was light. Bright, blinding light that hurt too much to look properly at. It was hot, like fire and he shrank away from it, trying to beat it away …

_Do you want to live?_

A voice. A girl, a woman? He wasn’t sure which. It was scary. He didn’t like it.

_I think I can help you. Do you want to live?_

Did he want to _live?_ Was she fucking _stupid?_ Of _course_ he wanted to live! Of _course_ he wanted to come back, of _course_ he didn’t want to die!

_All right then._

Fire engulfed him, burned through him. Angel screamed and struggled but there was nowhere to go. Nothing to do.

His mystery lady had lied to him, he supposed. What a shocker. Everybody lied. Everyone had always lied except for En Sabah Nur. His master, his beautiful God and now he’d let him down, failed …

Dark again.

*

He woke up slowly. He didn’t hurt, which was kind of scary actually. He couldn’t remember waking up not in pain in … well. Forever. Not that he allowed many people to land blows on him but just the exertion of fighting tended to leave you aching in the morning. It was nice not to hurt but it was wrong. He always hurt because he was a fighter.

“Hello.”

Someone speaking to him. Someone he didn’t know. He forced bleary eyes open, tried to scrabble upright, getting his wings into position for a quick blow, if he needed one.

“Easy! I don’t want to hurt you!”

He was staring at the shaggy blue guy who had come in with that pathetic group to attack them, to attack En Sabah Nur. Angel snorted, flexed his wings, preparing the glorious metal feather-knives that he could throw. Right now, the blue guy wasn’t doing anything though. He was wearing a white coat, like a doctor and had his big paws lifted up, as though that meant something.

“I’m trying to help you,” he said. “Please. You were badly hurt, you’re still hurt. If you move around like that, you’ll reopen your stitches.”

“ _You?_ Help _me?_ ”

Yeah, right. This was a trick, some sort of trap. He looked around quickly, trying to spot an exit, trying to feel the warm reassurance that he was sure would come from his master, the promise that a quick kill would be the right thing to do.

Only he couldn’t find that reassurance. He couldn’t find anything.

“Where am I?” he snarled.

“You’re in Charles Xavier’s school for Gifted Youngsters,” the blue guy said quietly. “You survived the crash and we brought you back here. Well, with a few stops along the way.”

Angel ignored this last unimportant bit, trying to make sense of what he’d been told. Magneto had told En Sabah Nur where the telepath lived – had he called it a school? Angel couldn’t remember, it hadn’t mattered. His master had just taken them straight to where Xavier was and they’d taken him.

“Where are the others? Where’s Magneto and Psylocke and Storm?!”

“Magneto and Storm are here. We don’t know where Psylocke is. She ran.”

“ _Ran?_ Psylocke would never _run_ , you liar! None of us would _run_. She – ”

He stopped. There was something about the way this guy was looking at him, something … really wrong. Something …

“Why aren’t you dead?” he asked bluntly. “Did you surrender?”

“No,” Blue Guy said and his voice went all soft and gentle, stupidly _nice_ like he thought he could _help_. “We didn’t have to.”

And Angel wanted to believe that meant that his master had won, that he’d managed to take Xavier’s body like he’d wanted to, that all of them were under his control and any minute now, Angel would hear his soft, soothing voice and know that they’d won and the world was going to be rebuilt and everything was going to be perfect, just perfect …

But the reassuring voice didn’t come. And the fuzzy blue bastard was saying how they’d won, saying that “Apocalypse” was dead and that the world was rebuilding and no, no, _no!_

“You lying _bastard!_ ” he screamed and flexed his wings, flinging his metal feathers like spears. Blue guy sprang back, landing on his feet like a cat but that was cool cause Angel could fight, he was the best fighter around and there was no one, _no one_ better than him – 

But suddenly, his wings were frozen, holding him place. He twisted round furiously and saw Magneto was standing there, hand outstretched, holding the metal back.

“Stop struggling. You’ll injure yourself.”

“I didn’t need your help, Erik!” the blue guy snapped, glowering.

“Hank. Please.”

Angel tried to struggle. His arms and legs were still free but it just made him look like an idiot, flailing around so he stopped. 

“Come here, you coward!” he snarled. “Come here and _fight!_ You fucking _bastard_ , did you betray him? Did you?”

“Hank, could you give us a moment?”

Blue guy – Hank – gave a nod and walked out of the room. Magneto walked in front of Angel and pulled his spear feathers out of the wall, idly crushing them into small, metal balls. Angel hadn’t worried about his wings being metal before. It had been brilliant, cool, strong. Now, pinned in place, he suddenly wasn’t so sure he liked them any more.

“Yes, I betrayed him,” Magneto said, his voice still quiet. “He was going to kill my people.”

“ _We_ were your people, you fucking piece of shit! They, they’re _weak_ , they’re nobodies! How the fuck could you?”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s hard for you to understand right now. But Charles … Charles isn’t weak. You saw that yourself. He’s a good man. They are all good people and I won’t let you hurt them. Do you understand that? If you try, I’ll simply pull your wings out.”

Magneto said it with no expression whatsoever and Angel knew he meant it. He glared, hating with all the strength he had. The bastard, the fucking bastard. He left them, betrayed them and now was telling Angel what he could do and En Sabah Nur …

“What happened to him?” he asked and hated himself when he heard his voice shake slightly. Magneto didn’t laugh though. In fact, he looked kind of sad.

“He is dead. Don’t imagine anything else. His body was incinerated and his mind burned to nothing.”

Angel thought numbly about his fire woman. Incineration? Burning? Had she killed his master and saved him at the same time?

He suddenly realised that his wings were free again. Magneto was watching him. He didn’t seem to be worried that Angel might attack him – and fuck him, he was right. What was the point of going for him? He’d just grab his wings again.

“I won’t stay here,” he whispered. “I won’t stay with you murderers.”

“ _He_ was the murderer,” Magneto said. “He would have killed – ”

“ _Who fucking cares?_ How the fuck did you end up like this? You understood, he believed in you, he trusted you! You think any of the people you “saved” give a shit about you? Or your wife and kid?”

Magneto’s eyes closed for a minute and Angel felt almost bad. They’d all felt and understood his pain, he’d been sorry for him before. En Sabah Nur had wanted them to understand, wanted them to know the pain that Magneto was going through so they’d all get it. So they’d all know why they thought. Only now ...

“He wanted to help you. You fucking bastard, he _did_ help you!”

“No,” Magneto said quietly. “No, he didn’t. Don’t try to hurt anybody here, Angel. When you’re well, you can leave, nobody will stop you.”

He turned and left the room, closing the door behind him. Angel threw razor-feathers at the door out of pure frustration. He wouldn’t stay. He wouldn’t fucking stay here.

But he couldn’t find any proper clothes and rummaging through the drawers sent pain lancing through him. He down looked at himself properly, saw the jagged wounds that they were trying to heal, the black stitches in his skin. Sometimes, he’d been hurt while fighting and they’d stitched him up too. Not as neatly as this.

Suddenly his energy was gone. He crawled onto the bed, trying to curl his wings around himself. But the metal didn’t bend like that and in the end, he had to leave them propped up behind him. 

He’d failed. He’d failed and the only person who had loved him, believed in him was dead. He hadn’t been able to save him.

He was a fucking failure.

He must have fallen asleep, although he didn’t remember it. He was suddenly aware that Blue Guy – Hank – was in the room again, quietly pulling the razor-feathers out of the door. When Angel jerked up, he turned and smiled, a weirdly friendly smile for a guy with fangs.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“Fuck off!”

Hank blinked and Angel hoped that he’d hurt the bastard’s feelings. It was hard to tell though, what with this guy being all furry and all. 

“There’s no point starving yourself. You’ll have to eat, it might as well be stuff you want. When you’re better, you can leave, if that’s what you want.”

“Of course it’s what I want! I want to leave now, I’m fine, I’ve had worse.”

“You’re not fine, don’t talk rubbish. Those wounds were deep and you’ve had internal damage. We need to keep an eye on you. I’m sorry, I know you’d rather be somewhere else but we’re not going to let you leave until we’re sure you’ll be all right.”

“Why do you care? Is it because I haven’t attacked you personally? I bet your Nightcrawler friend doesn’t care.”

“It’s the right thing to do,” Hank said softly. “Whether Kurt cares or not is besides the point.”

Angel rolled his eyes. They had to be crazy if they thought he was going to believe all this shit. This was probably some sort of trap. Maybe they wanted to keep him, use him. Sell him back to the slaves, make him fight gain. They probably thought he deserved it. 

“So. Can I bring you something to eat? Is there anything you fancy?”

“Yeah, fucking caviar on toast.”

He expected Hank to get annoyed but instead, the guy laughed.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t actually taste that great.”

“Fuck you, I’ve said what I want.”

“Okay,” Hank said and walked out. Angel waited a bit, then crept over to the door and tried it. It was locked, just as he’d suspected but he could break it down if he really wanted. He went back to bed and sat there, waiting to see what Hank brought.

To his confusion, Hank appeared with toast and a small jar that did indeed say it was caviar.

“Be careful. It’s strong.”

It was strong. It was it was also vile. He managed not to spit the mouthful out but it was hard work. Hank grinned at him and shrugged his shoulders.

“Sorry. I tried to warn you. How about you finish the toast and I bring you something you might like a bit more?”

He left again and Angel ate the rest of the toast, a little amazed that they’d actually bought him the caviar. Showed what rich bastards these people had to be. Who the hell kept caviar around? Wasn’t this meant to be a school?

He hadn’t realised how hungry he was. When Hank returned with a plate of sausages and scrambled eggs, he inhaled it, the way he’d always eaten in the cages. If you fought well, they fed you well but you could never be absolutely certain that they wouldn’t snatch it away, just to fuck you up. Or let someone else grab for it, just to scare you. 

“You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Whatever. Did you cook this? Will I be coughing up furballs?”

“Very funny,” Hank said. He sounded a bit rattled though and Angel smirked. 

“That’s a yes then. What, you’re a doctor and the cook? I hope they pay you well. Or do you do it because you’re such a good person? Because you’re so kind and shit?”

“I get paid for working here,” Hank said quietly. “I could leave whenever I wanted to. I simply chose not to because I’m happy here.”

“Yeah. Because _you’re_ not out there in the real world. _You_ don’t know what they do to people like us!”

“Yes, I do. I really do. I’m sorry that we can’t help everyone. We try … ”

“Go fuck yourself. _Go fuck yourself!_ ”

He threw the empty plate at Hank’s head. Hank caught it easily and quietly walked out of the room. Angel screamed curses after him, knowing it was pointless and yet not caring enough to stop. They didn’t know. Fuckers didn’t know fucking _nothing_.

In the end, he curled up and slept again. This time, he dreamed of darkness, of death reaching out for him. He was trying to get away from it, shouting for help and En Sabah Nur just stood there, looking at him, his lips twisted in disgust.

“I’ll do better!” Angel begged, clutching his arms. “I’ll do better this time, I promise, don’t leave me, don’t, don’t leave me … ”

“You are worth nothing,” En Sabah Nur said and kicked him away. Angel woke up shuddering and gasping and disgusted to find there were tears on his face. Fucking crying like a baby now. Fuck this stupid place.

Nobody came for a bit. He was able to wipe his face clean and make it look like he hadn’t been bawling, then look around a bit. It was a small room, probably for isolation. All the cupboards were locked solidly and while he guessed he probably could smash them down, it didn’t seem a good idea. He peered out of the small window and realised he could see gardens, big sprawling expanses of green grass and tall trees. He could hear the sound of kids laughing somewhere.

It had been a long time since he’d had something to laugh at. He couldn’t remember having fun in forever. It had been all about survival, then it had been all about serving his glorious master. He was a fighter. What did fighters laugh at except for other people’s pain?

He felt too tired and sore to stay up and crawled back into the bed, wishing again that he could tuck his wings around him, nestle in their softness. Not that he needed softness. He was hard and tough and solid and strong. These new wings were better. They were _better_.

Hank arrived a bit later with a plate of stew and bread and a bowl of ice cream. Angel ate the ice cream first, marvelling at the sweetness of it. He hadn’t ice cream since home. Hank didn’t say anything at all, didn’t even watch as Angel ate. He just moved around, checking Angel’s pulse and wounds.

“You’re improving,” he said quietly as Angel finished the stew.

“Can I leave?”

“No. It’ll be at least a month before you can do that.”

“I’ll fucking die of boredom.”

“No you won’t. Now you’re awake, we’ll bring you things to do. Do you always swear this much?”

“Fuck off.”

He expected Hank to get annoyed or upset but to his surprise, Hank just grinned. He took the empty plates away and Angel wondered what he was thinking. He didn’t get what these people wanted from him. They couldn’t possibly just want to be nice. Nobody was just nice. 

Hank returned carrying a television without any trouble. He plugged it in, fiddled with the remote for a while and then cheerfully went away, leaving Angel to mess with the channels.

He hadn’t watched TV in over a year. He found himself flicking through the channels, staring at everything, unable to focus. It was crazy.

You didn’t normally give fighter-slaves a TV.

You didn’t normally give fighter-slaves anything.

_They’re just trying to lull me into a false sense of security. They’re just trying to get you to think that you’re okay and then they’ll rip you apart or whatever._

But Magneto was with them. And Magneto was a traitor and a bastard and a coward but he’d clearly cared. He’d clearly given a shit about mutants. When En Sabah Nur had told him about Angel’s life, he’d looked so sorry, so angry. He’d touched Angel’s shoulder. He’d told him nobody else would ever be allowed to do something so sickening.

So maybe these people wouldn’t be allowed to do that.

Only maybe the telepath was in Magneto’s head. He wasn’t shielded by En Sabah Nur any longer after all. Maybe Xavier was possessing him, making him think that everything was okay. That Angel was safe.

Only Xavier wasn’t in _his_ head. 

Maybe he liked people scared.

He thought about Xavier on the rocks. His furious face, telling Magneto that he was more than he felt he was.

Angel turned the TV off and curled up in bed again. He didn’t know what he thought any more. He didn’t like that. He wanted it easier again. He wanted things stopped.

He dozed fitfully, twitching in and out of sleep from weird, uneasy dreams. He kept nearly sleeping and then jerking, thinking he was dying, not sleeping. Thinking the darkness might be permanent, might carry him away. That he might get lost.

He finally managed some sleep and cursed when loud laughter somewhere nearby woke him up. He could hear feet too and realised that he was hearing people moving around the school, rather than coming in to look at him. He listened to them, hating them. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t _fair_.

_You’re right. It isn’t fair._

Xavier’s voice sounded like it was coming from right next to him. Angel nearly jumped off the bed, flapping his wings.

_Sorry. You were shouting. I’ve been meaning to talk to you. This seemed the moment._

“Get out of my head, you bastard!” he said out-loud, although he found that he didn’t quite mean it. Xavier in his mind was almost like En Sabah Nur. He was warm and soft and kindly and Angel missed it. He wanted it.

 _I’m so sorry_ Xavier said softly. _I am so sorry that we had to hurt you so. That we weren’t able to save you._

“I didn’t need fucking saving. You think I needed saving? I was the best, I was a frigging God even before he came to me. Who’d want to be saved by you?”

_I don’t know. Perhaps nobody. But it wasn’t fair that you suffered so much, for so little reason. I wish I hadn’t had to take your saviour from you._

Angel didn’t bother to answer that. He folded his arms, stared at the wall and tried to think of nothing. He could still feel that warm, confusing presence in his head. Wasn’t sure what to do about it. He wanted to say that he didn’t like it, wanted to reject it utterly and yet … yet …

_I’m not like him. I never could be._

“Whatever,” he muttered. “When can I leave?”

_You can leave your room when you’re a little better. You can leave the mansion when you’re healed._

“Just get out of my head!”

With a brush almost like a stroke, Xavier’s mind left him. Angel shivered. He was betraying En Sabah Nur. He was failing him all over again. First by not killing his enemies, then by not saving him and now by not hating the bastards that had murdered him. By letting Xavier get in his mind, by even thinking that it was like En Sabah Nur’s loving caress. It wasn’t. Of course it wasn’t.

These bastards were just trying to confuse him. But they wouldn’t succeed. They didn’t know just how strong he was. They didn’t know. And they’d be sorry.

In the morning, it wasn’t Hank that woke him, it was Nightcrawler. He was looking uneasy and twitching his tail, holding a tray of food. Angel flexed his wings, hoping to freak the bastard out but it didn’t seem to work.

“Here, I have bought you breakfast,” Nightcrawler said, putting the tray down, his accent heavy.

“What, Hank too busy?”

“He is working. There is a lot to do, here. Perhaps when you are better, you would like to see?”

Angel looked at him suspiciously. Nightcrawler _sounded_ sincere, which was … well, weird. The guy ought to hate him. Or be crowing over him. He’d won two fights – although Angel hadn’t had a chance to really get going on the first.

“I wanted to apologise,” Nightcrawler said, his voice awkward now. “For … for hurting you.”

“As if you’re sorry,” Angel said with a snort, grabbing the tray and pulling it over. Nightcrawler had probably spat in it or something but he didn’t care. He’d eaten worse.

“I am. I did not wish to fight with you, although you made it necessary the second time. But I would like to put that behind us.”

“Scared I’ll win next time?” he sneered.

Nightcrawler twitched but didn’t rise to the bait. He simply shrugged his shoulders.

“If that is how you wish to see it,” he said. “I assure you, it is meant well. I am sorry you have suffered. I forgive you what the harm you did to me and I bear you no malice.”

Angel decided not to waste breath telling him to fuck off. He finished eating in silence. When he was done, Kurt took the tray and teleported away. It was kind of a neat trick but Angel was in no mood to appreciate it. He scowled and put the telly on, turning it up really loud just because it might annoy someone. Father had always hated – 

He slammed down on that thought, hard. He didn’t think about Father any more. Or Mother. Or home. He didn’t have a home, he was a mutant, he wasn’t like them. En Sabah Nur would have made him a home. Would have made them all a home if he hadn’t been betrayed. Angel had failed him …

The thought made him feel queasy. Was this all his fault? If he’d just been a little stronger, he wouldn’t have nearly died …

 _That_ thought made him frightened. Remembering the dark, the cold, the knowledge that it was all going to end and he was going to die, he was going to _die_ …

He had to get out of here. He was trapped and he hated being trapped, he hated it, _he had to get out!_

He started slashing at the bed, the door, the walls; wild, frantic slashes, not caring what damage he did. It was fighting, he was thinking and he didn’t matter what he was fighting nothing and nobody, it was better, it was better than remembering, than _knowing_ that he was alone, that he had nobody and he’d lost the only person that had ever cared for him …

The door finally split under his attacks and Angel stumbled out of it, looking for something, someone to hurl his blades at, to prove that he was strong, that he was _better_. He’d fight anyone, he didn’t care – 

Children.

A terrified bunch of children, staring at him from round the corner, eyes wide. They couldn’t be older than ten. One of them had her hands lifted, maybe trying to raise some sort of shield so they might be safe from him …

“Angel.”

Xavier’s voice was quiet. Angel whipped round to face him and saw the man sitting in his wheelchair. He looked rather different however. His head was entirely bald and he wore a suit. Angel blinked at him.

“Everything’s fine, my dears,” Xavier said, looking at the children behind him. “Off you go, now.”

“Is he going to hurt you?” one of them asked. Angel could hear the fierceness there, the determination to protect her God above all things.

“No,” Xavier said.

“Don’t be so sure!” he hissed and flexed his wings threateningly. Xavier just stared at him, expression cool. His mouth didn’t move but his voice was icy in Angel’s mind..

_I don’t care what you do to my home, to me and even yourself but you will not try to frighten my children, do you understand? I will not tolerate that._

He didn’t _want_ to be scared. He didn’t _want_ to surrender. But looking at Xavier like that, seeing his eyes so cold … it _was_ frightening. It didn’t matter that this was a guy in a wheelchair, that he didn’t have physical powers the way Angel or Magneto or Psylocke did, If Angel didn’t behave, Xavier _would_ punish him.

He didn’t say anything and Xavier smiled at the children again.

“Run along, now. I’m sure some of you should be in lessons. You don’t want to miss anything, do you?”

Angel kept his eyes on Xavier, rather than look around. He could hear the children scurrying off, hear a few doubtful mutters as they did. Xavier turned his eyes back but they were suddenly gentle again now.

“You’ve hurt yourself.”

“No, I – ”

He looked down at himself. One of his carefully stitched wounds has split and there was blood trickling down his chest. He suddenly felt exhausted and sore and shaking.

“I don’t want to go back in there,” he said pathetically.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s boring. But you need to rest or you will never heal. I know how much you hurt. Will you let me help you?”

Angel didn’t answer. He stumbled back into his trashed room and curled up on the wrecked bed, automatically trying to pull his wings around himself. But they wouldn’t come and what would was cold. He didn’t have anything warm any more.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Xavier whispered and his hand touched Angel’s shoulder so gently that it was hard to twitch away. “I am so, so sorry.”

“Bastard, I don’t want your pity, I want you to get the fuck away from me. What the fuck do you know? The fuck do you understand? You could have been great, you know that? You could have been part of something!”

“I _am_ part of something,” Xavier said, his voice firm. “Hold still, I’m going to stitch up your wound.”

“Fuck you. We were going to build something amazing, we were going to change the world.”

“You were building nothing. You were tearing down everything that had ever hurt you, killing millions, if not billions of innocent people who deserved a chance to live, to experience. You would have killed countless others in the devastation afterwards. No, Angel, I didn’t want to be a part of that. I didn’t want your master to tear into my mind and body, destroy me and steal everything I am for himself.”

His hands were gently moving over Angel’s side, washing the blood away. Angel closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see anything. He didn’t want to listen to this. He didn’t want to hear.

“No, I’m sure you don’t. But you must, all the same. I understand that you loved him, I understand why you did. But you must understand why others like myself did not. I have a right to my life. I cannot be sorry that my friends loved me enough to stop Apocalypse.”

He didn’t want to hear. Why should he want to hear? He wanted his master, not this false God, this loser pretending to be so kind and caring. What did he know? What did anybody know? 

“You think I don’t understand love? The desire to be loved, to belong?”

“Yeah, you understand! Use it too, don’t you? How many of them would die for your love?”

He felt Xavier’s hands still on his side for a moment. Then he continued. Angel could feel the tug of the stitches going in. It was better than trying to take care of himself after a bad fight.

“I don’t know,” Xavier said quietly. “I can’t answer that question. I want to take care of others. I want to guide them, help them. Yes, perhaps I am like En Sabah Nur in that respect. I never said he was all bad. I never would. But to destroy the lives of others … no. I will never accept that to be the right path. There can be love and hope without that.”

“Oh _sure_. And the humans will just welcome us with open arms!”

“Perhaps they will. Given time. There will always be those who do not understand or accept us – or who will use us the way you were used. But for every one that doesn’t, there are thousands who will simply see us as the people that we are.”

Angel didn’t answer. He didn’t _want_ to answer. He was tired and he hated everyone and it wasn’t _fair_. He squeezed his eyes tighter shut and tried not to feel. Tried to pretend he was cold metal inside, just like his wings.

“I wish you could trust us, Angel. I know you’re hurting but I promise, none of us want to add to that pain. All we want to do is make it better.”

Metal. Cold, heavy metal. Nobody could hurt him, he never hurt. He wasn’t afraid of anything …

“There. That’s sewn up again. Please be more careful of yourself. You’ll never heal if you keep reopening your wounds.”

Xavier, talking to him like he was just some kid that needed taking care of. His enemy. En Sabah Nur’s enemy. He hunched up, not saying anything. Xavier patted his shoulder, then moved away. Angel just lay there, wishing that everything would go away. That everything would just _stop_.

Xavier left and he slept. He dreamed that he was swimming in the ocean, his wings weighing him down. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get himself into the air, couldn’t fly away. He was trapped, he was drowning …

En Sabah Nur was standing on a pinnacle of rock. Angel fought to reach his side, struggled to reach up to him, screamed for his help. The black eyes, once so warm and loving turned to him and they were white and cold.

“Help me!” he begged but En Sabah Nur just turned away.

“You are nothing,” he said and his voice seemed to go right down into Angel’s soul.

“No! I’m sorry, I promise, I’ll do better, _please_ … ”

But En Sabah Nur did not look round and his wings were too heavy and he was sinking, sinking into the dark, he was dying again, he was dying – 

“Wake up!”

He jerked away, flailing wildly. Hot, hairy hands caught his and he saw Hank’s gentle yellow eyes staring worriedly into his.

“You were crying out. It’s all right. It was just a dream. You’re safe.”

Angel just shook his head. Hank didn’t understand. None of them understood. 

Even he wasn’t sure he understood any more.

*

For the next four days, he did as little as possible. He lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling or watched the TV. When the food came, he ate it, not really caring what it was. Hank fretted and fussed, examining him, his fur tickling when he did. Angel didn’t care about that. He had decided that he didn’t care about anything.

On the fifth day, he sat up to drink and felt his hair falling in his face. Irritably, he pushed it away – and then realised that hair was growing on the side of his head as well. Frowning, he got out of bed, stumbling slightly and went to the bathroom, looking at himself in the mirror for the first time in a while.

His face was going to be scarred, when the burns finished healing, a harsh scar down the right side. His hair was growing back. And his marks, his beautiful, special marks were fading.

En Sabah Nur had done those things to him. He had simply run his hands over Angel’s head and the hair had tumbled away and reformed, gentle, easy, beautiful. The marks had been a little painful but it had been an exciting pain, a sting of power running through his skin. En Sabah Nur had smiled at him, so proud, so pleased and Angel had smiled back and felt so _loved_ …

“No. No, no, no – ”

He didn’t realise he was chanting until Hank opened the door and stared at him. Angel whipped round, not caring that his wings caught the sink.

“Fix me! Get them back! _Get them back!_ ”

“Get what back? I don’t understand, I’ll help if I can, I promise … ”

“My marks! _His_ marks!”

“Oh …” Hank looked distressed. “Angel, I can’t. I don’t know how unless we tattoo you and I can’t possibly do that.”

“No! _No!_ I can’t lose them! You don’t understand! You don’t understand! He, he’ll never take me back, he’ll think, he, I need, I need them, please, _please_ … ”

“Angel, he’s dead. I’m sorry, but he’s dead. Please. Please calm down, you’ll hurt yourself.”

“I need him,” he whispered, hoarse and helpless now. “I _need_ him, I … why can’t you understand?”

Hank stepped towards him, put one paw on Angel’s arm. When Angel didn’t resist him, Hank drew him a little closer.

“I know I can’t understand what it’s like,” Hank said quietly. “I know that. I haven’t been through anything you have, I never had to be who you are. I do … I do know what it’s like to think you’re losing someone you love. To not know what to do because everything’s changing. But you can’t hold onto him by keeping your hair the same or even keeping those marks. If you miss them and like them, you can get them again but it won’t be the same. It can’t be. It … whatever you decide doesn’t mean you don’t love him any more.”

Angel just shook. He felt sick and confused. Hank was being so kind, Hank was always kind but he hated En Sabah Nur, how could he say all these kind things and mean them? Did he really understand? Nothing made sense …

“Angel, you’re burning up! Come back to bed, let’s get some medicine in you.”

He let himself be led. He felt woozy, confused, didn’t know what to do any more. Hank tucked him in, gave him water and pills which he swallowed unresistingly. He was beginning to shiver wildly. It was so incredibly cold and when he tried to pull his wings around him, they were useless. Everything was useless …

He dreamed of dark things with long fingers that whispered to him, scratched at him. His wings were a heavy weight, he couldn’t get away and they were going to take him back to the cages, back, he didn’t want to go back. He felt so ill, he was going to die, like before and he didn’t want to, he was so afraid, so afraid …

_“I don’t know what’s wrong. The wounds aren’t infected. He’s just … sick.”_

_“It’s the wings. The last remnants of Apocalypse’s power are fading from the world. For the others, it isn’t so bad, he only enhanced their powers and those enhancements can easily be accommodated by what they already had. But Angel’s body wasn’t designed for these metal wings. Without boosts, his body is rejecting them and there isn’t any way that we can recreate that power. Even Jean couldn’t do it.”_

_“Charles, he’ll never forgive us if we take them out.”_

_“I know. But it’s that or let him die and I can’t do that. I can’t.”_

He moaned. Why wouldn’t the voices stop? Why wouldn’t they leave him alone? He felt a hand touch his head, stroke gently and he wanted to cry because it wasn’t En Sabah Nur, why wouldn’t he come, why didn’t he see how sorry Angel was?

The hand on his head became heavier. He was falling, falling away, he was dying, he had to be, it was just like before and nobody would come – 

Arms. Warm arms, solid, strong arms and he was looking up into En Sabah Nur’s gentle face.

“You came,” Angel whispered, almost unbelieving. “You _came_.”

“My child, did you truly think I would leave you?”

Angel clung, pressing his face against En Sabah Nur’s powerful shoulder. He felt En Sabah Nur caress his back and shivered. 

“Thought I’d failed you. Thought I was going to die and I was so _afraid_.”

“I do not wish you to die.” The voice was firm, compelling. It had to be listened to, demanded obedience. “You are my fighter and you must fight on. Death comes to us all, in its time but you are young and strong and you need not fear it.”

Angel looked up at him, nodding. He wondered what would happen if he leaned up, kissed those perfectly sculpted lips, pressed himself against the body of the God that had given him reason to live again and was doing so a second time. He hadn’t dared before. Hadn’t wanted to risk angering him, hadn’t wanted to look a fool before the others. En Sabah Nur’s gentle touches and smiles had been enough and he’d known they had time, time to do it later, time to explore everything he wanted to …

“You’re not really dead, are you?” he whispered. “Please? You’re just … resting?”

“I am dead to you, child. I cannot return as you would wish. But death is a complicated, nuanced thing. Death and life … meaningless to one such as I.”

“I want to be with you.”

“And I want you to live.”

Angel closed his eyes. He felt heavy and tired and sad. He didn’t know what he wanted any more. En Sabah Nur stroked his back again, then leaned down and kissed the top of his head with gentle firmness, the intent clear.

“No. I’m not ready. Don’t go! I’m not ready!”

“You are ready. Believe in yourself.”

The darkness was coming back. Not so frightening now, more of a warm blanket of peace. He didn't have to be afraid. Everything would be absolutely fine. Everything would be well.

When he woke, he woke slowly. He was lying on his front, head turned to the side, carefully arranged. His back was completely numb. When he blinked his eyes, he managed to focus on Hank's anxious, fluffy face.

“Are you awake?” he whispered and Angel managed a small nod.

“Thirsty,” he croaked and Hank helped him sip from a cut of water. He tried to sit up but Hank gently touched his arm, shaking his head.

“No. No, you … you shouldn't try to move.”

“My wings,” he said quietly because he knew, he knew that he'd dreamed true.

“I'm so sorry. I … they were killing you.”

“I … won't be able to fly again?” 

It hurt to say, it hurt to think. Hank stroked his face.

“I don't know yet. Your old wings may regrow but your back needs to heal first. If I can help you, I will, I promise. I'm so sorry.”

“Doesn't matter,” he mumbled with all the strength that he had left and then he fell asleep again.

It was like that for a good many days, flickering periods of consciousness. His dreams went from the peaceful to the terrifying; warm and randomness to blood and terror. Sometimes he woke feeling all right, sometimes he woke sobbing and lost.

Hank was often there, quietly reading. Sometimes it was Magneto and if it was a nightmare that Angel was clawing his way out of, he would sing something in a language that Angel didn't understand until he slept again. Sometimes, it was Xavier and he would always smile and talk to Angel like everything was quite normal until Angel slept again.

He really wasn't sure how he felt about any of it. But it was slightly easier to accept than it had been before. En Sabah Nur wanted him to live. So he had to simply get on with this until he was better and then – 

And then …

He didn't know what the “and then” would be.

Xavier chattered to him about his students quite often. He told stories of them, cheerful stories about their silly mistakes, their fun and chaos. He talked about the different things that they learned and Angel sometimes got the feeling that he was being gently tested. As he got better, this became more obvious, Xavier asking him stupid questions about science and maths and books and then gently correcting him when he didn't know things. Angel wasn't absolutely sure that he liked this. What did any of that matter? It wasn't like he could _use_ it.

“Why ever not?” Xavier asked when he muttered this one day. “You don't know what you're going to be doing with your future. That's why education is so important. It opens your horizons.”

“My horizons are big enough.”

“Are they?” Xavier said lightly. “You can fly anywhere you choose but is your world really so large? Why not take advantage of what we have here, see if you want to change things a little?”

He choose not to answer and Xavier didn't push it any further. Angel couldn't decide what he thought. School had been _before_ , the fuzzy time that he didn't think of too much because it hurt too much to remember. It was hard to imagine a future that involved anything else, It was hard to imagine a future at all.

What was he now? Still a fighter? Who was there to fight? He didn't want to go back to the cages, he knew that. He didn't want to be bullied and hurt, tormented, mocked. But he was good at fighting, he was skilled and clever and quick. He _was_ a fighter, in many ways. But what could he use it for now?

He didn’t know. He couldn’t think.

Things had seemed so simple before. Now everything was impossible and he didn’t know why.

His back was healing. He was finding it easier to move without gasping in pain. His enforced stillness had helped fix his other wounds too and he was beginning to feel generally better, despite the nightmares. Hank gave him an exercise regime that he found he enjoyed. It was nice to feeling himself getting strong again, even if the process was slow and he kept overworking and having to lie still for longer than he liked.

Not long after that, Hank started taking him outside for walks into the spacious grounds, Angel liked being outside again. It helped him breath, made him feel like he wasn’t trapped, that he could actually get away sometime.

But he missed his wings.

There had been a time that he’d hated them, even tried to cut them off himself. Now he felt naked without them. They were part of him and he wasn’t ashamed any more. He was _proud_ and didn’t know how to display that.

“You … said you thought my wings might grow back,” he said to Hank in the most casual way that he could. It wasn’t all that casual. His voice shook very slightly and he felt a fool for being far too obvious.

“Yes,” Hank said. “I don’t know for sure, you understand but … your wings are part of your DNA makeup. At the moment, I’m dosing you with a serum that blocks that to make sure that your back could heal but when I stop, everything should go back to normal as long as what Apo – as long as what happened to you didn’t leave any adverse effects.”

“You have a serum that blocks part of my DNA?”

“Well, yeah, it … I created it a long time ago, to use on myself. It’s still useful, sometimes. Don’t worry, it wears off naturally when you stop using it. Trust me, I know from experience. Your back is very good so if you want, I can stop the injections.”

Angel nodded his head, still thinking about what Hank had said.

“What happens when you use it on yourself?”

“This all fades and I look like a human. I used to use it all the time but I … haven’t been lately. I thought it was time to try and be myself more.”

“What did you look like? When you were … human?”

“Skinny, gangly and geeky,” Hank said with a smile. “Nothing impressive, believe me. But before, I … I always wanted to fit in and I … I found it hard to be … to be different.”

“My Dad freaked out,” Angel said. “When they grew. He wanted all sorts of things, he … I dunno. Couldn’t take it. I ran away and … and stuff happened.”

Hank laid one of his heavy paws on his shoulder, squeezed very gently. Angel knew Hank would listen if he wanted to talk more but he didn’t. He didn’t know what to say about it all. It was so much better to pretend it had all never happened. There was no need to accept it, no need to relive it. He was Angel now, Angel the fighter. 

“We’ll take you off the serum today,” Hank promised. “I’ll keep you monitored though. Did it hurt the first time?”

“Yes,” he said, trying not to wince at the memory. 

“Let me know if it’s a lot worse. We can help you, I promise. And I have the perfect distraction while it’s happening.”

“Oh?” Angel said suspiciously. There was something a little too perky about Hank’s tone.

“Why don’t you come and spend some time in the school proper? You’re almost perfectly well now, there’s no point you sitting in here like a prisoner. Why not have a bit of fun with some people your own age?”

Angel stared at him with narrowed eyes. Hank stared back and shrugged his shoulders.

“Why not do it? If you hate it, you can stop any time. You might enjoy meeting others like you.”

“School is boring,” Angel said.

“More boring than just sitting on your own watching television all day?”

Irritatingly, he had a point. Angel was sick of his little hospital room. He was sick of TV. The only thing that he enjoyed were his walks around the grounds. If people were shitty, he could take them, even without his wings. And who really cared? He wouldn’t be here much longer. He might as well do something.

“Fine. Whatever. I don’t promise to be good though.”

“We wouldn’t expect it,” Hank said dryly. “Just don’t pick on anybody, that’s all we ask.”

Angel shrugged, like he didn’t really care about their orders. He didn’t think that he would though, unless any of the kids were stupid enough to start on _him_. Then things would be quite different. 

Only nobody did. The others glanced at him curiously but a lot of them gave him friendly smiles. None of them seemed to think it was weird that he was sitting in the back of their classrooms. In fact, several approached him and asked his name and if he’d be staying. Angel wondered if any of them really knew who he was. One of the girls, Jubilee, told him that she’d been meaning to come and meet him for ages, that she always talked to the new students but she knew he’d been sick. It didn’t sound like she understood he’d been sick because he’d been trying to kill her headmaster only months ago.

Nightcrawler knew him, obviously, but he was clearly saying nothing. His tail lashed a little when Angel came close but he said nothing, even managed a vaguely civil smile. Angel wasn’t sure what to make of that. He knew that it wasn’t Nightcrawler’s fault that his wings had been damaged – it was a fight, if you lost, you lost, holding a grudge was stupid. But Nightcrawler had beaten him _twice_ , had made him look a fool and Angel didn’t like it.

He was more uncertain about what to do when he saw Storm. She looked so different without her sleek, silvery armour, with a happy smile on her face as she talked to other teenagers. She wasn’t the person he’d met before. Who was she now? Did she plan to make this her life? 

He must have been watching her too obviously because Storm approached him.

“Are you doing well?” she asked.

“Sure,” Angel said with a shrug. “You?”

“Yes. This is a good place. I am going to be happy here.”

Angel stared at her, wondering if he dared ask the questions that burned inside him. _Do you feel bad for what happened? Do you miss him? Did you love him the way I did? Did you dream of him too or was that just me?_

He couldn’t ask. He shrugged his shoulders again instead, trying to look cool and indifferent. Storm looked at him for a moment, then reached out and touched his arm.

“No matter what happens, I should like to be friends,” she said simply.

“Yeah,” Angel said. “Yeah, I’d like that too.”

To his slight surprise, he found that he meant it. 

Three days after he’d stopped taking the serum, he felt the bumps on his back that meant his bones were shifting position again. Four days after, he felt the throbbing ache which meant they were trying to break out.

“How long did they take to grow to full size last time?” Hank asked, carefully examining Angel’s shoulders.

“Dunno. About a month? They grow quickly, get strong quickly too. It hurts.”

“I know. I’m going to put some cream on and give you some painkillers. Just do what you can. Are you enjoying school?”

“No, it sucks.”

“Okay. Just checking.”

Hank sounded amused and Angel found himself grinning too. Hank hadn’t expected him to say anything else – probably hadn’t taken him seriously. Before, he’d have minded but somehow, now, it was kinda funny.

And really, the lessons weren’t so bad. He found that there was stuff he didn’t understand and he hated that but when he’d stayed back after one of the lessons to ask a teacher what it had meant, they’d managed to explain without sounding like they thought he was stupid. Some of the students were kind of good at explaining too. Jubilee sometimes leaned over when she thought he was looking confused and whispered things to him. Sometimes, they only made things more confusing but he knew she wanted to help.

Some of it was interesting. Which didn’t mean he wanted to stay or enjoyed school or anything but ... it was better than nothing.

The growing wings attracted a lot of attention from the students. People wanted to touch them, asked him all sorts of questions which Angel found a bit weird. He wasn’t the only one with a visible mutation but apparently, wings were special.

“I can tell them all to stop,” Hank said anxiously. “People do get curious about the mutations of fellow students but we do try to enforce a policy of people just letting things be.”

“It’s cool. I don’t care.”

He wasn’t sure it was true but at least the kids that were gathering around him thought the wings were neat. At least they wanted to know if he could fly yet and if the wings were soft and how they felt. They weren’t saying that the wings were gross or freakish or asking if he could twist them round to slit a man’s throat ...

He shuddered, suddenly remembering how much blood there had been when he’d done exactly that. It had splashed all over him, soaked him, turned white wings red.

He didn’t want to do that any more. 

He just didn’t know what he wanted to be instead.

He listened in the lessons, trying to work out if those could help him find what he wanted. It didn’t seem to magically come. He found the maths and science pretty hard – although Hank told him it was because he’d missed loads of stuff and that with a little bit of coaching, he’d be just as good and quick as anybody else in the class. The English was better. Xavier taught those and Angel had to admit, there was something kind of fun about his lessons. Xavier read them passages from books and then asked them about them. He often ended up talking with them about totally different subjects, happily arguing with someone about something that didn’t have anything to do with the book at all. Angel didn’t tend to take part very much but he listened. He always listened. Xavier never tried to talk to him directly. He sometimes glanced Angel’s way and smiled at him but never asked him anything or tried to draw him in or hold him back. 

“Your wings are nearly full-grown, aren’t they?” Hank asked one day and Angel knew he was right. His wings felt heavy and right again, the way they always had before. 

“Yeah,” he said.

“You should start practising with them,” Hank said. “Get them as strong as they used to be.”

“They’re strong,” Angel said quietly. “They’re ready.”

“Okay,” Hank said. He sounded quiet and when Angel looked at him, he saw Hank was looking rather sad.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just ... where will you go?”

Angel’s stomach squirmed at the question. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted and then, in a whisper because it was easier that way. “Can’t I just stay here?”

He found it hard to say. He braced himself for Hank to laugh or say something mocking and then it occurred to him how stupid that was. That Hank had said nothing cruel or mocking in the entire time that Angel had known him.

“If you want to stay, you can,” Hank said and he sounded _happy_. “We’d love to have you! It would be ... it would be a bit different, you’d have to be an actual member of the school and do actual homework.”

“Oh, well, forget _that_ then!”

He found himself grinning and Hank grinned back. He reached out and gripped Angel’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“You are welcome, Angel. You’re so welcome.”

“I won’t be a good boy,” he said, because it seemed important to say. “I’ll probably get into fights and piss you off and Xavier will probably expel me.”

“The kids here can hold their own, I’m very calm and Charles has never expelled anybody yet. Please don’t take that as a challenge.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Perhaps it was madness. Perhaps it was stupidity. He’d get himself killed in his bed because he trusted these guys or laughed at or something horrible that he hadn’t thought of yet.

But he trusted them. He trusted Hank with his kindness. He trusted the kids he’d met that had been so friendly. He trusted Storm who had promised that she was well-treated here. He trusted Xavier, who had been nothing but accepting since Angel had arrived.

He wanted to be here.

A squirm of guilt flickered in his stomach. What would En Sabah Nur think of this? He would be so disappointed ...

But he had wanted Angel to live. So Angel had to do it.

“I’m gonna fly tomorrow,” he said abruptly to Hank. “I want to ... get back into it. Will you do something for me?”

“Sure. What?”

“Use some of that serum on yourself and be ... your human body? I want to see it.”

“Um, yeah, if you want ... ”

Hank looked completely puzzled but Angel didn’t explain himself. He flexed his wings softly, feeling the stir of muscles in them, the familiar way the feathers moved and clicked. His beautiful strong wings. He had missed them.

That night, he slept curled in their soft cocoon, feeling warm and the closest to safe that he had felt for a long, long time.

Somehow, word spread that he was planning on flying in the morning. By the time Angel got outside, he found that he had an audience of at least half the school gathered outside. The other half were hanging out of the windows, whispering eagerly to each other. Xavier was there too, looking cheerful. He shrugged his shoulders when Angel looked at him.

“Flight is exciting. It’ll be nice for them to see you.”

Angel rolled his eyes and looked at the man standing at Xavier’s side. He had lied, he wasn’t skinny and gangly. He was tall, yeah, but Angel could see the sleek muscles under the clothes. Hank was pretty well formed, as it went, but not as bulky as he was when he was big and blue.

Which was what Angel had hoped.

He stretched his wings out gloriously, feeling the pull of their muscles. One, two, three dramatic flaps to remind himself and then he sprang into the air, hearing a collective gasp of admiration from the watchers. His wings caught him easily, gloriously and Angel flew up, up, up, the blue sky opening up to receive him, the world falling into a tiny blanket below. He had missed this. He had missed it so much. He _free_ , he was _free_ again and more than that, he was _himself_.

He twisted in the air, did a loop the loop, flew around the school in a great arc. When he swept down, he heard applause and cheers. Angel stopped to hover above them all, flipped himself in the air and heard more applause.

“Looking good!” Hank called to him.

“I know,” he said and dived down. “Your turn.”

He grabbed Hank tight around the waist and hung on, flapping his wings. They were easily strong enough to lift them both into the air and he shot straight upwards, almost as fast as he had before.

Hank’s shriek of pure horror was utterly brilliant.

“What are you doing?! Put me down! _Put me down at once!_ ”

“Hell no, dude! We’re _flying!_ ”

Hank grabbed onto his shoulders and threw his legs around Angel’s waist, hanging on for dear life. Angel held tight too and twirled them around.

“Look down! Look at the world!”

“Oh God,” Hank said. “Oh God, oh God, we’re going to die, we’re going to die!”

“Are you kidding? We’re not even _high_ yet!”

“Put me down. Put me down!”

Angel laughed and spun with him, grinning at his friend’s petrified face.

“It’s the best feeling in the world, Hank. You said you liked to fly!”

“I like to fly in a plane! I like to fly with a seat! Oh God, I am not ready for this.”

“I’m not gonna let you fall. I don’t let my friends fall.”

Then he felt stupid for saying something so sappy and did a loop-the-loop to show just how tough he was. Hank’s scream made him laugh with exhilaration and then he slowly began to head back to the ground, giving Hank a moment of more peaceful flying to enjoy.

When they touched down, they were instantly surrounded by a warm of kids.

“That was _rad!_ ”

“Did you enjoy it, Doctor McCoy? You _sounded_ like you were enjoying it!”

“Can I have a go, can I?”

“Me first!”

“Absolutely not,” Xavier said, rolling himself forward, his voice amused but utterly firm. “I think many of your parents would be extremely angry if I allowed you to free-fly without so much as a harness. Perhaps if Angel is willing, we could construct something but until then, I want you all with you feet safely on the ground please!”

The chorus of disappointed “aws” made Angel snort. He betted he would be being approached by a lot of hopefuls over the next few days. He grinned at Xavier, almost challengingly. 

“ _You_ want a go, old man?”

He heard a few gasps from the students. Obviously, people weren’t usually that rude to Xavier in public. Xavier just grinned, apparently not at all worried by the comment.

“Oh, I would _love_ to,” he said. “But I don’t think I should risk if the way Hank just did. Without my legs, my balance isn’t nearly as good, I might pull us both down and I don’t want that. There is a better way that I could fly with you but I’m not sure you’d accept it.”

Angel looked at him, knowing what he meant. If Xavier was in his mind, he could fly without needing to be carried. He could feel the flight in a totally different way. But he wouldn’t do it without being invited. He hadn’t come into Angel’s mind again since the early days.

“Sure,” he said casually. “Come on in.”

Xavier’s grin faded into a smile, a smile of pride. Angel looked away and felt something in his mind, a warm touch of someone riding shotgun and not trying to hide themselves. He leaped back into the air, flapping his wings.

 _Oh_ Xavier’s voice was thrilled. _Oh, this is wonderful! I’ve always wanted to fly ..._

Angel flew a circuit around the school, looking at the building beneath them. It was big, full of rooms he hadn’t seen yet, things he hadn’t done. He wondered where he would sleep now he was properly well again. Would he get his own room? Would it be comfortable? Would they really let him stay?

 _For as long as you want_ Xavier told him. _This will be your home whenever you need it. Mind that tree – are you sure you’re ready for acrobatics like that? Please don’t crash._

Ready? He was ready for _anything_. His wings worked again, he could fly magnificently and he had missed this, he had missed the feel of it, the wonder of it. He dodged in and out of trees, laughing as Xavier slipped between scolding him for being reckless and laughing with overjoyed exhilaration at every beautiful aerial acrobatic.

After a while, Angel flew straight upwards into the wide sky, watching the world fall away beneath him. He remembered the first time he’d ever dared do this, that moment where the world had become nothing but a tiny thing far below ...

 _Tiny?_ Xavier said. _I don’t see it that way. It’s so big. Look at it all, laid out like that. There’s so much to see._

Angel looked. Yeah, the world _was_ big, when you thought of it like that. All spread out in a great blanket, a map of buildings and roads and fields. He could feel Xavier’s joy radiating inside him and it was weird and it reminded him a little of En Sabah Nur.

He suddenly wondered if his dream really had been En Sabah Nur coming to him from somewhere or if it had been Xavier, trying to give him a reason to live. He didn’t ask. He knew that he would never ask. He didn’t need to know. Either it _had_ been En Sabah Nur ... or it had been what he had always hoped En Sabah Nur was.

Some stuff, you probably didn’t need to know for sure.

 _If you don’t mind, we should probably head down now_ Xavier said, sounding regretful. _Hank is having kittens. Perhaps another time?_

 _Yeah_ he answered silently. _We have all the time in the world, old man_.

He flipped over and dived towards the ground, watching it get closer and closer as Xavier laughed gleefully in his head.. He let himself skim it, almost hitting before twisting up and landing lightly on his feet to a second bout of rapturous applause. He saw Xavier clapping along with them, saw Hank shaking his head, trying to conceal a smile. Saw the gleeful faces all around him, saw Storm and Nightcrawler and his friends all smiling, looking impressed.

 _Thank you, Warren_ Xavier said silently.

No one had called him Warren in years. He guessed Xavier had lifted it from his mind. To his surprise, he didn’t really mind. It was kind of nice.

 _I guess you’re welcome_ he said and then, out-loud. 

“So. Where do I go now then?”


End file.
